In Kyiv, leaving the house means encountering people in uniform—along with all the difficult feelings that arise. My eyes tear up at seeing three boys (boys!) in uniform hurrying down the street outside the bus window. Inside there's an older man in uniform sitting nearby, head bent over his phone, fingers moving with purpose. Those three boys are too young to have been drafted for mandatory service. Are they cadets—or volunteers? Before getting off the bus I turn to the man in uniform and say, "I thank you for your service." Our eyes meet for a moment and I think, how nice to exchange a few words with a nice-looking man.
Eloquent and moving. I’m frustrated and ashamed that the US is playing politics while you are living through this. I will look at those links and try to help in my small way.
Like Gail, I’m ashamed of those among my fellow country men and women who allow the pain you so brilliantly describe, refusing to help Ukraine because they feel a perverted “love of their country.” Theirs is not the country I know. I’m so sorry.
Eloquent and moving. I’m frustrated and ashamed that the US is playing politics while you are living through this. I will look at those links and try to help in my small way.
Like Gail, I’m ashamed of those among my fellow country men and women who allow the pain you so brilliantly describe, refusing to help Ukraine because they feel a perverted “love of their country.” Theirs is not the country I know. I’m so sorry.